


encore une fois

by sunfloras



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/M, France (Country), Languages, Lots, Lots of Sex, POV Second Person, Reader-Insert, a lot of installments, trust me when i say i'm gonna have fun with these
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:55:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29001837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunfloras/pseuds/sunfloras
Summary: you have one month left in paris, france, and you meet a man by the name of nishinoya yuu. he changes your life as much as you change his.a series of events revolving around nishinoya x reader.
Relationships: Nishinoya Yuu/Reader, Nishinoya Yuu/You
Comments: 8
Kudos: 20





	1. pt. i

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **title:** encore une fois, pt. i  
>  **pairing:** nishinoya yu x female!reader, in second person pov.  
>  **story notes:** no [y/n] or other similar bracket designations. nameless character.  
>  **author’s notes:** i need to show love to my baby boy noya.  
>  **summary:** you have one month left in paris, france, and you meet a man by the name of nishinoya yuu. he changes your life as much as you change his.
> 
> a collection of oneshots, following a plot, revolving around nishinoya x reader.

January is the coldest month in Paris.

You shove your hands in your pockets and bundle your shoulders up as you pick up the pace and turn the corner, hurrying to escape the prickling cold. The apartment you're renting is only a few blocks away. You'll live if nothing goes wrong.

But something does go wrong, because of course it does. It starts to rain.

The raindrops feel like ice against your face and you yelp, frantically trying to come up with a backup plan as the rain begins to pour. But there are no cafés here, barely any store fronts since you rounded the corner. Your best bet is to simply find cover, and wait. The rain falls harder, and the cold starts to seep into your coat, so you sprint to the nearest portico. You hope the owners of the building won't be so heartless as to make you move in this downpour.

Shaking off your feet, you bite your lip and realize that it's a bad day to wear your shoes. They're beautiful, and would stand the rain, but they're light and they would stain easily. You can already see a fleck of grime, clinging on the side of the toe.

"大丈夫ですか？" you hear, and you look up from your shoes to meet brown eyes staring up at you. He's climbing up the steps of the porch with an umbrella in hand, looking a little concerned. "あなたはここのテナントですか？"

 _Shit_ , you think. English would've been easier to deal with, but a completely different language catches you off guard. Your mouth starts to curl around the words you know will send him away, neither in English nor in French, but he seems to catch himself.

"Sorry," he says, brown eyes wide. "I— _ano_ —You live..." He points to the floor. "Eh?"

You blink at him.

He clears his throat and jogs up to the porch, standing next to you and gently shaking his umbrella out. As he closes it, you notice he's about your height, and the stark dye job at the front his hair compliments the rest of his face. "Sorry," he repeats, then bows. "Nishinoya," he says, then extends a hand.

Oh, a name. You can work with that. 

You take his hand and say your own, and he smiles. He raises a hand, as if to get you to wait, then pulls out his phone. "English?"

At the shake of your head, he understands. He fiddles with his phone and gently pushes it into your direction. "Say," he says excitedly, accent thick around his words, pointing the mic in your direction. "It will translate."

The words leave your lips. _I'm stuck in the rain with no umbrella_.

You nearly jump back at the tinny, robotic voice that speaks from his phone. It's in a language you don't understand, presumably his. When the robot voice ends, he looks surprised. "I understand," he says, then presses something again. He talks into the phone.

 _"I am a tenant of this apartment,"_ his phone said. " _You can come inside to wait out the rain, if you like_."

Relief fills your body, warming your bones. It's cold outside, and just a few minutes with warmth could be a huge reprieve. Before you ask if it's okay, he speaks into his phone again.

" _Only if you would like._ "

You answer in your limited English. "Yes. Thank you."

He smiles brightly and bows, before fishing out his keys and leading you inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm on tumblr (@[oikawakuns](https://oikawakuns.tumblr.com)). feel free to pay me a visit!


	2. pt. ii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **title:** encore une fois, pt. ii  
>  **pairing:** nishinoya yu x female!reader, in second person pov.  
>  **story notes:** no [y/n] or other similar bracket designations. nameless character.  
>  **author’s notes:** more shenanigans! language is something that i think a lot of writers tend to ignore; some people even just slap their view unto the story and that's it. i don't think that's very fair—the characters are the way they are because of their circumstance, culture, language, and such, and this being in second person is no exception. 
> 
> this is kind of a new challenge for me as i've never written anything similar to this before, but i hope it still manages to make someone happy.

The building is nicer on the inside. You're kind of jealous.

Nishinoya lives two floors up, and your footfalls are resound on the staircase as your climb your way up the wooden steps. He leads you to his door and fishes out his keys, and unlocks the door. He moves out of the way and points at his feet. "Shoes," he says, then crosses his two pointer fingers together, keys dangling from his curled pinky.

Apprehension runs through you, but you remind yourself that this is _his_ apartment, and you are a guest. You nod in understanding and slip your shoes off before stepping inside. The floor is clean, very clean, and it takes you by surprise. Before you can even pick up your shoes, he's doing it for you, taking off his own and setting them neatly on a shoe rack by the door, closing the door as he does so. 

He moves too quickly for you to even protest. Even his umbrella is neatly standing next to the shoe rack.

" _Asseyez-vous s'il vous plait_ ," he says gingerly, pointing with his palm to a modest couch situated in the corner of his sitting room.

The French rings familiar in your ears; you've been asked enough times in restaurants to do the same thing. " _Merci beaucoup_."

He flits away while you take a seat and is back in the blink of an eye—seriously, he moves _very_ quickly, and sits on the floor, hunched over the coffee table and scribbling away at a slip bright pink paper he's picked up from somewhere. Once he finishes, he hands it to you.

You're taken aback by the sheer amount of consideration, and your eyes flit back to his eager, earnest smile. You let out a deep sigh that pushes out your anxiousness and tugs the corners of your lips upward.

" _Oui s'il vous plaît_ ," you respond, twisting the note and pointing at the tiny glass.

He grins and heads to the tiny corner of the open layout that holds his kitchen.

It takes only a few seconds to input the password of his network unto your phone—seriously, he's _so_ nice—and your eyes flash to the window. It's grim and gloomy outside, and the rain seems to have started coming down harder. You sniffle.

"Okay," Nishinoya says as he walks back into the living room carrying a tray with two cups of water and two cups of hot tea. He sets the tray down and picks up the pink note you stuck to the table. "WiFi?"

" _Oui_ ," you say with a grateful smile. " _Merci beaucoup._ "

He beams and crumples the note, shoving it into his pocket. He sits on the floor and pushes the tray towards you. " _Thé_ ," he offers, and the warmth steaming from the surface of the cup is too enticing to ignore.

The sides of the porcelain cup practically scald your freezing fingers, to your surprise. Your teeth chatter unexpectedly and he pauses as he raises his own teacup to his lips.

"寒いですか？" He places the teacup down, and glances at your shoulders. You've completely forgotten that you were just in a sweater and jeans and those two, while conducive to chilly weather, were helpless against the piercing cold of the rain. "コールド？"

You blink, visibly lost for words. He fumbles for his phone and taps his screen.

" _Are you cold_?" his phone speaks in English after a few clicks and a few words.

You nod. "Yes."

"Okay, wait, uh, wait," he says, then heads to his bedroom, the only other door in his apartment. It takes a bit, but sooner than later he comes out with a bundle of black fabric in his hands. "どうぞ." He hands it to you. "Here."

" _Non_ ," you say, flustered. You raise your hands, not willing to overstep your boundaries. " _Non, je_ —" Shit, you can't speak French. You fumble for your phone and punch in a translator app. _No, it's okay. I'm fine._

He frowns. " _Non_ ," he says, thrusting the fabric towards you. "It's okay."

Your hands shake when you take it. "Thank you," you say, warming your hands. You slip the jacket on and sigh.

"Japan," Nishinoya says suddenly, and jerks a thumb to his chest. "I am from Japan."

You smile at his attempt to make conversation, and decide to indulge him.

It's both difficult and riveting, figuring out how to communicate with someone who you didn't have a shared language with. But Nishinoya was apparently someone who did not give up, no matter what. Be it with the use of technology, or even simply doodling on another sheet from his bright pink sticky note stack. Half his coffee table was littered with the stuff, but he didn't seem to mind.

You learn a lot about him. His _last_ name was Nishinoya, and his first name was Yuu (which resulted in a funny exchange that resulted in a lot of pointing and clarifying whether the word was _you_ or _Yuu_ ), but you could call him Noya, or rather, he _preferred_ that you call him Noya. He's a traveler, broadening his horizons and experiencing as much as he can. He graduated from high school three years ago, and he'd been to several countries before France.

Noya learns a lot about you, too. Your three-week study tour is ending next week. After that, you have two weeks of free time before you had to head back home. He seemed excited about the fact that you would have a lot of free time.

As the conversation went on, you two made a game of it. You played with the words, translating them into French and English and learning their meanings in your own languages. It was fascinating, and Noya seemed to be completely absorbed in learning what he could. It made you smile. 

Noya's phone spits out a sharp ring while he was speaking a sentence into it and he jumps back in surprise. " _Je suis désolé_ ," he says sheepishly, and you shake your head to assure him. He slides his thumb across the screen and presses the phone into his ear. "もしもし？" He pauses, then a big grin spreads across his face. " _SUGA-SAN_!"

Not wanting to intrude, you turn your head to stare out the window. Surprise fills your face when you find that it's dim outside, and the rain has let up into a drizzle. Have you been here _that_ long?

His conversation on the phone is quick work, full of laughs and groans, but he manages to cut it off quickly. He'll probably speak to them again later. Once the call ends, he speaks into his phone again. The tinny, robotic, familiar voice translates. " _Do you want to leave_?"

You look back at him and honesty overcomes you. "No," you say, then swallow at the open surprise on his face. "But..."

He stands. "I—" He fiddles with his phone and reads carefully. "I can... walk you, to your home."

Your terrible English is only slightly better than your abysmal French, and the words send a blush to your cheeks. You don't even have time to protest because he's by the door, already picking up his umbrella and his shoes, as well as yours. "Come," he says with a bright smile.

It's harder to look for the words to disagree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> head over to my tumblr (@[oikawakuns](https://oikawakuns.tumblr.com)) for more hq garbage!


	3. pt. iii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **title:** encore une fois, pt. iii  
>  **pairing:** nishinoya yu x female!reader, in second person pov.  
>  **story notes:** no [y/n] or other similar bracket designations. nameless character.  
>  **author’s notes:** hey, an update!
> 
> i've decided to cut this off at 18 parts, so at least there's much to look forward to. my life is currently a lot at the moment, so i won't promise an update schedule, but just know that i _will_ write when i can!

Noya is very... gentlemanly.

You are not sure what kind of boys or men Japan spits out. Actually, perhaps _gentlemanly_ is the wrong word, as you are virtually clueless about Asian culture in general, but he's showing the signs. He's holding the umbrella—he's a little taller than you, maybe a decent five-foot-six— _and_ your purse, and if that doesn't scream _gentleman_ , you don't know _what_ does.

You suppose you have nothing to lose if you ask.

You speak into your phone. _You have very good manners. Is that common in Japan_?

Noya flushes and looks both ways before crossing the road. He fumbles with his phone in his pocket and speaks into it. " _I was berated by a lady for not being appropriate with her_ ," his phone said, and you thought it was sweet that he programmed the translator to translate it in your native tongue. " _I was rude for being inconsiderate_."

Interesting. A thought occurred to you. _Was she French? How did you know she said you were rude?_

Noya shook his head. " _I guessed, because she looked very angry_."

A laugh bubbles out of you. "I see," you say in English.

" _I'm courteous,_ " Noya's speaker lets out flatly, a stark difference from how desperately he defended himself into his phone. He looks so put out by the translation that it makes you tip your head back and laugh out loud.

When your eyes meet his, he's grinning.

There's little to talk about on the walk to your apartment, as it's difficult to both think and walk and type at the same time, but Noya manages to do all of that without looking like he minded being the conversation one-sided. He points out random windowsills and cyclists on the road, he even tells you of a classmate he'd had who traveled to school by traversing a mountain with his bike (!) with a mix of hand gestures and some digital assistance, while on your end, it was half-guessing what he meant, half-asking questions about what he meant, if the guessing wasn't doing so well.

He was so involved with his story that it made you laugh when his face soured when he reverted to his default Japanese. It would probably take a quick few sentences if he used his phone, and you could have suggested for him to just use his digital translator, but this was far too amusing.

The walk to your apartment is short, almost disappointingly so. Noya frowns when you point to the building where you stay.

"既に？" he mumbles under his breath, maybe not for you to hear, but you flash him an uncertain look. He shakes his head and smiles, stepping back. The rain has stopped and he gently shakes his umbrella away from you before closing it.

"Thank you," he says, then he bows. "In Japan, this is polite," he says, still smiling when he straightens.

You smile and decide to bow as well. "Thank you." Then, you step close, and he tenses. "I..." You take a deep breath and decide to bite the bullet. You place a hand on his shoulder and lean forward and up to lightly press your cheeks to each of his.

When you pull back, your biggest concern is that Noya would see how red _you_ were and laugh _at_ you. But, in an interesting turn of events, _Noya_ is redder than you've seen anyone be red. You're worried you've broken him. 

" _La bise_ ," you blurt out. "To greet."

He shakes his head, and he settles to be less red, but still flushed. "A—Ah." He swallows.

You want to smack yourself for how awkward you made things.

A firm weight places itself on your shoulder and he kisses both your cheeks, too. But instead of his cheeks, he uses his lips.

He pulls back with a blush. " _Bonne nuit_ ," he says with a tentative smile, and waves goodbye before you can say anything back. His back is disappearing around the corner before your brain can fully comprehend what just happened.

You practically stumble into your room, the second door on the right of the first floor. You lean your back against the door and press your cold fingers to your hot cheeks.

_He just kissed me_ , you think frantically. _He just kissed me!_

It's not lost on you that three weeks ago, you were practically _vibrating_ with the exciting of experiencing a Parisian romance. Maybe with a handsome blond boy with blue eyes and could barely speak English but that didn't matter, the language of love did (no matter how terrible that sounded). And maybe it didn't turn out as you expected in your head, but it was still... still...

_Okay, calm down. He just kissed you goodnight, he didn't propose. Calm down_.

You take a deep breath and rub your hands on your face, your heart rate starting to slow as you started to put things into perspective. _He kissed you because he was being polite. He probably didn't even know that you didn't use your lips. Calm down._

You take deep breaths as you stride into your rented apartment, slipping off your shoes by the couch and taking off your—

_Shit_ , you think. _I didn't give back his jacket_.

You take care in slipping off the garment and gently shake it off. It's a simple black jacket, a windbreaker with no hood, and a logo with the foot on the chest that you just noticed. You turn it around, and find that against the stark black threaded in white were the characters 烏野高校排球部 .

There is something in you that thinks that this is something he will definitely want back. You gently start to fold it, all the while thinking of ways to run into Nishinoya again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'd give it a 6/10 for realism. ugh.
> 
> send over some requests on my tumblr (@[oikawakuns](https://oikawakuns.tumblr.com)) if you like!


End file.
